Saltwater Sky
by Windsong
Summary: Discontinued.  GW fantasy fic.  War threatens on the horizon, one which many magical races and kingdoms must band together to stop.  Very involved fantasy setting...heavily AU, lots of NPCish OCs.


Ooooooookay. This is the first chapter, but don't expect anything else for a while. This fic is taking me a _lot_ of planning, and I still don't have a real idea of plot; I think I'm just having too much fun planning it and trying to make this world as real as possible. -grins- Anyways. This is the first GW fantasy fic that I've written, so go easy on me. I mean, I'm good at fantasy, and decent at GW, so this should go okay…right? -laughs nervously- Yeah right.

-Avi bops her on the head- Oh, yeah…

Disclaimers: um, don't own anything. Oh, well, I own all of my psychotic ideas. But I don't own any characters that are, um, owned by other people. -sweatdrops, mutters- Yeah, that makes a ton of sense…

Enjoy!

* * *

Saltwater Sky  
_By Windsong_  
**Chapter One**  
Written 22 March 2003 

The figure shuffled down the road, a road overgrown with disuse and dusty from the dry heat. The road seemed to be never ending, and there was no shade on either side—the road, though rarely used, was wide enough that the low shrubs that grew on either side did not shade the person's feet as he walked in the middle of the path. The person never slowed nor quickened his pace as he continued his journey. He moved like a small ship in a choppy sea; his strides were long and smooth, but when his feet hit the ground he jerked slightly. When a foot landed on the road, a small cloud of smoke-dust bloomed, blown before him like thunderclouds precede a storm, gently urged forward by the gentle breeze that blew at his back, not enough to annoy or push him forward but enough to make his messy bangs move slightly. He walked under the sun's full dazzle, seeming not to notice or be annoyed by it. He kept his head down low enough that if he lowered his eyes, he could watch the puffs of smoke-dust his feet made, and if he raised his eyes, he could view the sun-dried landscape that unrolled before him. The edge of his vision wavered and flamed with the heat rising from the sun, and heat slowly seeping from the ground. He surely noticed—it was impossible not to notice—but he didn't seem to mind. His face maintained a serene cast, a calm look that showed he was at peace.

The head of a horse curved over his right shoulder as he walked. The entire horse, from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, was a soft silver that threw off the brilliance of the sun and shined like a mirror. Even its hooves shone silver. The only exception was its eyes, which were an intelligent, piercing, yet gentle shade of amber-gold. Its pace was as steady as its masters', but every now and then his tail would twitch, and his ears, though usually perked forward, occasionally turned this way and that when it heard something too soft for human ears to catch.

The man walked on. With a snap and a gentle whisper of feathers striking stagnant air, shadows draped over the person's face. Lifting his chin slightly, he moved his eyes upward to see a large wing hang above him. "You don't need to do that," he said softly. His voice was as gentle and calm as his expression.

-It's hot,- the horse replied, a slightly accusing tone creeping into its voice as it used its other wing to gently get the air around them moving and cooling down. -You'll get a sunburn.- The horse did not speak with its voice; instead it talked directly to his mind.

"I never get sunburned. I've never gotten sunburned, and I probably never will. Besides, what does heat have to do with sunburns?" His voice was quiet, just barely audible over the heavy quiet, but it held a note of strength. The man's pace never wavered, and he continued his choppy, yet smooth pace.

-Probably isn't certain. You know the saying; there's a first for everything.- After a few moments of walking, it gently nudged its master. -Don't you think we should rest?-

He blinked. "But we're not there yet," he said reasonably.

He heard a hassled sigh in his mind. -I **know** we're not, but we've been traveling **all **of yesterday **and** last night **and **today. I would think that you would be tired.-

"I'm not."

The horse snorted. -I tell you, you're not human. You must have some of my kyn's blood in you, to have such endurance.-

"Merely training." His face shadowed for a moment before it resumed its tranquil cast.

-Well, at least you can ride. It will make the trip faster, for I can run much faster than you can walk.-

"But I rode you all of yesterday and last night. "

-Don't be stupid. You have given me more than enough time to recover. Now mount up, before I am forced to coerce you!-

The man's lips twitched up in an almost-smirk, reaching up a hand to stroke his horse's cheek. "All right, if you so insist."

He stopped, moving gently to one side as the horse walked forward to stand next to him. With one swift, flowing movement, the man grabbed the horse's mane and swung himself into the saddle. Picking up the reins, he leaned forward. 'Let's go,' he thought. 'I promised I would arrive by this evening.'

-You only need to ask.:-With a playful shake of its mane, it tucked its wings close to its body and sprung, seeming to skip over the dusty road like a pebble skips over water, barely raising a puff of dust as its hooves danced over the road. The horse was a descendant of one of the special horses of the wind god Boreas, known for their speed, as fast as the wind, their wondrous ability to fly, their endurance, and legendary magical powers that few knew anything about. The horses were wild and impossible to tame, roaming the skies, high plains, and meadows. However, eventually a man crossbred it with a normal horse, long ago. The offspring was a horse that had slightly less speed and endurance than a true messenger horse of the wind had, and a much easier temperament. From that, many people began breeding messenger horses of the wind with normal horses. It was extremely dangerous work, but if you were successful it was worth it. This horse was one of the offspring.

The man kept himself as low to his mount's neck as possible, keeping his wind resistance to a minimum. He trusted that his horse would know the way. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to slip into a light sleep, still keeping his tight grip. Sensing that its rider was sleeping, the horse smoothed out its gait until it was a gentle rolling gallop, slightly slower but much easier on its rider.

- - - - -

The man woke up at the lack of movement. The horse shook itself, silvery mane and tail flying. -We're here,- the horse said softly into his mind.

Sitting up, the traveler took stock of his surroundings. The sun's last weakening glimmers, evidence of the losing battle it fought with the relentless night, were all that was left of the day; not even the golden orb was viewable, sunk too low in the horizon to see. They stood in a small courtyard, ringed with high grey stone walls on each side that radiated cold depression. A small building made of a lighter-colored grey stone stood in front of them, the lanterns lit within making the building glimmer cheerfully. Underneath his mount's feet the floor was paved with large flagstones in varying shades of grey and off-white.

-The stable hand's waiting for you to get off so he can take me to the stables.-

The person gave his horse a measuring look. 'You actually **want** to go to the stables?'

-No. If they'd leave me in the pasture I should be able to manage.-

'Fine.' "I would rather you not stable my horse," he said quietly, a note of authority in his voice. "She prefers the pasture. However, if you could remove her tack and give her a rubdown before turning it loose, I would greatly appreciate it."

The servant bowed. "As you wish." The man dismounted and nodded to the servant. The stable boy then led the horse away. After watching his horse for a moment, he raised his chin slightly, raising his eyes to examine the forbidding, graceful structure before him. _The palace. I never did feel at home here._

The royal palace was a building made of smooth, white stone, with graceful curves and arches adding to the feeling of majesty the structure gave off. It was the tallest building for miles, and the fact that it was on a hill only added to its towering presence. Into various nooks of the building, there were elegant statues of various magical creatures, each representing a species that had sworn fealty to the Kingdom. Dragons, Merfolk, Unicorns, and Elves were examples. Writing adorned the walls, written in the High Language of mages, spells for protection, shielding, and defense. The large doors were made of a deep, rich, dark wood, with intricate designs—more spells for protection. At the moment, the Palace gleamed like quicksilver as it reflected the last remnant light of the day, making the elegant edifice simulate a flare of silver light. At night, several large torches were lit within the highest tower along with the normal lights, giving off a welcoming, warm glow. There was a reason the structure was called "The Light Palace", or, more affectionately, "The lighthouse."

In front of the doors stood two strong men, part of the Maguanacs, or the Palace Guard. Their faces broke into welcoming smiles as they recognized who approached.

"Welcome home, Lord Heero," One of them said, offering his hand. "The other fellows were beginning to take bets on when you'd be back."

"And who'd get home first, between you and Messenger Kalen," the other added.

"But as usual, you've got him beat," the first man finished. "Wing's faster than any other mount in the kingdom, after all."

Heero nodded as he took the Guard's hand in his own, expression calm. "She'll appreciate the compliment, I'm sure. She always claims I don't give her enough credit, and I think I give her too much. And I did say I would return today."

"Yeah, but the court's a bunch of doddering old fools, always worrying about you young whippersnappers out in the field, ya know." The man winked.

_That's why I've never felt comfortable here. The Court._ "Well, I must report to the Queen..."

They nodded, touching the fingers of their right hand to their left shoulder as they bowed. "Safe travels."

"Same to you," he returned, nodding to them as he walked inside.

He walked into a large atrium, meant to impress and doing a spectacular job of it. Its tall ceiling was gilded and illuminated with mage-light, as was most of the first floor and all the stairwells. The walls were made of a white marble, delicately carved into a simple, elegant design, with brown and black veins flowing through to add visual texture. The floor was made up of an intricate pattern of white and black marble as well as gentle gray slate tiles. In fact, this room merely served as a central area to get to the other areas of the palace. The throne room was on a higher level. Doors made of the same smooth dark wood that the entrance door was made out of lined the far walls, which opened onto different hallways and rooms. A grand set of stairs led to the other floor, but there were back stairwells that could be taken, used only by the servants and the higher members of the court (depending on their taste). Heero took one of those back ways. After going up four flights of wooden stairs, the steps covered in a satiny sheen from long and frequent usage, he opened the small door and stepped out a few feet in front of the throne.

The throne room was smaller than the atrium, yet more comfortable and welcoming. The walls were also made of marble, and the floor covered in a thin forest-green rug with golden trim along the outside. Around the edges of the room were small tables and chairs.

There was a set of doors that led to the main stairwell, and directly opposite these doors sat the throne. Leading from the doors to the throne was a strip of white where the rug did not reach, leaving the alabastrine stone exposed. The throne itself was elevated. It was a rather plain throne, with no ornamental carving. The throne was made of a warm brown wood, upholstered in dark green velvet. The back of the chair was edged with gold leaf.

Behind the throne on the wall was the crest of the Sanc Kingdom. The royal crest of Sanc was a square, with a brown background and a golden border. A single dark green leaf in the shape of a rounded arrowhead cut across the square diagonally from the upper-left hand side to the lower right hand side. A thin golden thread shimmered behind the leaf, stretching from the upper-right hand corner to the lower-left hand corner. Two small golden crosses, symbolizing magic, were embroidered into the top and bottom of the crest, where the meeting of leaf and thread made a triangle.

Almost everyone in the court stopped and stared at Heero for a moment before they converged on him like a cloud of crows on a cornfield.

"Lord Heero! We've been so worried about you!"

"What happened?"

"Did you meet any pretty girls?"

"Or men?"

"Sunkar!"

"What's Enkira like?"

"What do Gryphons look like?"

"What were the Dragons like?"

Heero held up his hands to stem all the questions, sighing inwardly. He hated the Court. "I appreciate your concern, but as you can see I'm fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak with the Queen...Your majesty, if I could make my report to you in private, please," He knelt before the throne, head bowed.

Queen Elizabeth Peacecraft had been ruling since she was eighteen. Now forty-six years old, she wore her experience and wisdom like a mantle. Her golden-brown hair fell to her waist and was tied into a braided bun that rested high on her head. She wore a simple, flowing sleeveless dress made of white silk, with no embroidery save for the crest of Sanc in the right-hand corner.

Elizabeth looked down on her nephew, stifling the urge to cheer. In a moment she was about to make up any excuse she could to just get away from the Court for a while. _These people are so stifling!_ she growled inwardly. "Yes, of course. If you will excuse us—" Elizabeth stood up and walked to a small room adjoining with the throne room. "Relena, perhaps you would like to come along?"

"Nothing would please me more, lady-mother," Relena said, also standing up. Heero trailed behind them.

As soon as the trio was out of the Court's sight, Relena hugged her cousin. "Heero! I've missed you so!"

Heero stood stiffly until Relena loosened her grip, a flush coming to her cheeks. She knew that Heero hated expressions of affection, but she was so overjoyed to see her favorite cousin again that she couldn't control herself. "How was your trip?" Relena asked to break the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"Quiet," Heero replied to her question, after they had all sat down. "The gryphons said that they were honored that you would extend such a warm welcome to them, after being persecuted in the Celestial Kingdom, their original homeland. They are quite happy with their new home with the Dragons. They would be delighted to trade emissaries with the humans and the other peoples in order to facilitate understanding of each other and the building of alliances." Heero rattled off the message easily.

"Wonderful. Who would you recommend to send as emissaries? I would like your _unbiased_ opinion." Elizabeth's eyebrow went up as she looked at him, and her mouth quirked upwards in a sardonic smile. She knew very well Heero's distaste for the court. That was what had driven him to become a Messenger in the first place.

Relena spoke up. "If I may make a suggestion, I believe that the Lord and Lady Venal would be good choices. James is an empath and Christine is a fire-mage. They are kind and generous people and they had a very good relationship with the Unicorns when we sent them there."

"I would also suggest Lady Dequena. She has a head on her shoulders, doesn't take any nonsense and would earn the respect of the Gryphons quite easily."

Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you. I will send Lady Dequena, and Lord Cilare. Neither of them has gone as emissaries before and they are both honorable and noble people."

There was a tenative nock on the door. "Yes?"

A page dressed in brown stepped inside. "Your Highness, Messenger Kalen waits outside for you." The servant bowed, looking clearly nervous, and left the room.

"Well, might as well go back outside," Elizabeth said with a sigh.

Heero, Relena, and Elizabeth went back to the throne room, and saw a gaggle of people crowded in a clump and Messenger Kalen nowhere to be seen. From the group of nobles, they could hear small cries of dismay, and questions flying about. The queen straightened to her full height. "My Lords and Ladies! Please part!" Everyone looked up at the queen, surprised, but did as she commanded. When they did, Elizabeth's eyes widened and Relena gasped. Heero was shocked as well, though the emotion did not play across his face. At the center of the ball of people was Messenger Kalen. He was in a horrible state. His long brown hair, usually tied back in a neat ponytail, spilled in a wild tangled mess over his shoulders and back, and his left arm was covered with dried blood. His clothing, the uniform that all Messengers wore giving them safe passage through all lands, was torn, long gashes decorating it. His skin was slightly singed, as well.

"Messenger Kalen! What happened to you!" Elizabeth gasped.

He tried to kneel as decorum demanded, but at the movement he staggered and nearly fell over. Heero moved forward quickly to catch the fellow messenger before he collapsed. Kalen looked up at him dazedly. "Heero…?"

"You are in _no_ position to move," Heero said firmly. That said, he carried the man into the private room, Elizabeth and Relena trailing behind. Setting the man down in a chair, he took a seat near him. "Gods!" Heero continued. "What happened to you? "

"Only speak if you feel up to it," Relena finished, scowling at Heero. "You have been badly hurt. However, any information you can give us would be extremely appreciated."

"Relena, can you begin healing him?" Elizabeth asked her daughter.

"Of course, Mother…" Relena's eyes went blank and she became faintly outlined in light blue. An answering shade of blue light surrounded Kalen as she began to heal him. Kalen sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Lady."

He began. "I was returning home from the Celestial Kingdom bringing news when I was attacked by a group of Ssan."

Heero's eyes narrowed in disgust. Ssan are human-shaped, taller than most humans, with scaly skin usually of a poisonous, deep green. They have long tails and long necks, with a snake-shaped head. Their poison fangs, sharp claws and ability to change their color according to their surroundings make them perfect assassins.

Kalen continued. "I was near the border, and I am sure that it was very intentional. I escaped, but my mount was killed and I was hurt in the process."

"Night or day?" Heero asked.

"Day."

"What kind of path?"

"Rather open, a few trees, dense low shrub lining the road."

Heero sat back, eyes lost in thought. "Hm. Ssan are nocturnal, and are usually found in forests."

"Do you know why they did this?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have no idea. However, on one I saw a crest of nine silver stars in an X-shape on a dark blue background." His eyes closed in pain, and his breathing quickened. The blue glow around him grew stronger, and he relaxed once more.

"The crest of the Celestial Kingdom," Heero muttered. "Only the military is allowed to wear it. And if they were wearing the crest—"

"That must mean that it was done with the official knowledge, and probably approval, of the Kingdom," Elizabeth continued. "How did you manage to get here?"

"It was a struggle," he said with a pained smile. "Eventually I bought a horse and rode as fast as I could back here to the Palace."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in thought. "I must call together the council," she decided. "An attack on a messenger is an act that demands our immediate action. "

Elizabeth stood up. "Thank you, Messenger Kalen. We will be sure to supply you with a new horse as soon as possible. Heero, can you help Kalen get to the healers?"

Relena broke healing trance. "A few bones are broken, but they've already begun to set. He has lots of lacerations and bruises. I've burned out the infection, walled off the pain and began healing the bruises and cuts. The healers can do the rest."

Heero nodded. "I'll tell the healers." He picked up Kalen, throwing the abused messenger's arm around his shoulders and dragging him away as gently as he could.

After he finished relaying Relena's message to the healers and greeted some of his acquaintances, he retired to his own rooms. Sparsely decorated, with plain walls painted a faint tan, the floor was covered with thick, plush rugs of black and brown geometric patterns. A small bed rested in a shadowed corner. Around the merrily glowing fireplace were two plush, comfortable armchairs with a small wooden table placed in between them. The small weapons and armor rack against the wall was neat and well kept; with a sigh, Heero placed his sword, dagger, and bow and arrows onto it, also removing the light armor he wore and placing it onto the rack.

He quickly changed out of his messenger uniform. The uniform consisted of a dark green long-sleeved leather shirt that tied up at the neck with a thin golden silk ribbon, forest green breeches, and high brown riding boots that met the pants evenly. A thin gold band lined the ends of the sleeves and pants. There was also a golden stripe embroidered down the side of each pant leg. A thick brown cloak made of wool, with the royal crest of Sanc emblazoned in the middle, so none could mistake who he was, completed the uniform. No one but Messengers could wear the outfit, and each different kingdom's messengers wore the same outfit, only with different colors and insignia.

He changed into a soft white linen shirt and faded black pants, then flopped down into one of the armchairs, staring into the fire. It had been a relatively easy journey, and the Gryphons were hospitable and polite. However, it was Kalen that weighed on his mind. If the Celestial Kingdom attacked a Messenger from the Sanc Kingdom, what did this mean? He needed more information to know. He pushed his messy bangs out of his eyes. _I hate not being able to do anything._

- - - - -

Together with Queen Elizabeth Peacecraft sat the most brilliant minds of the kingdom. They were seated in the conference hall. Members of most of the fourteen magical races that resided within the Sanc Kingdom's borders were there, along with Relena Peacecraft, and Messenger Weriden, the most senior Messenger in the kingdom. Also there was the Queen's advisor, Lucrezia Noin. She had been the advisor for Elizabeth's mother, and now Elizabeth herself. Even so, she was only a hundred or do years old; fairies tended to have extremely long lifespans, usually living for over five hundred years.

"My lords and ladies. Ssan cruelly attacked Messenger Kalen when he was returning from his trip to the Celestial Kingdom. One of the Ssan was wearing the crest of the Celestial Kingdom." An intake of breath greeted these last words. "What, my lords and ladies, do you think we should do?"

"The attack of a messenger is a dire act, My Queen," Noin replied, raising up into the air so people could see her better, silver wings fluttering. "All the countries agreed that Messengers would be granted safe passage through all the lands. _All_ agreed, including the Celestial Kingdom."

"So what should we do? Attack them?" Asked Isnet, a young centaur.

**-And how would we do that?- ** Asked Starlight, a delicate-looking unicorn with a sharp tongue and absolutely no tolerance for stupidity. He shook his head, sending his cream-colored mane flopping back and forth. ** -Attack them? What is the point of that? We waste valuable lives, and for what? What else is there? Attack one of their Messengers? Are you out of your mind? Then **_**they**_** will retaliate, no doubt about that, and with all their forces, which are quite formidable. No, retaliation is exactly what we should **_**not**_** do.- **

"I ssshould think that it is bessst if we sssend a Messsengerrr to demand an explanation," said the Jewel Bird Eldora in her sibilant, gentle voice.

"_That_ I agree with," Elizabeth replied.

"But what if they attack the Messenger like they attacked Kalen?" Noin asked. "There is no reason to risk another life. However, I do agree that we do need an reason for their action."

The Nymph Pyadyn replied from her bubble of water. "We have an emissary of ours within the Celestial Kingdom's palace, do we not? Let us ask him for an explanation." Her voice shimmered through the air, yet was painfully clear. Nymph voices went not only to the ears but also directly to the brain.

"A good idea," Elizabeth nodded. With that, she turned to Noin. "Round up some guards, find Emissary Tubarov, and _don't let him go anywhere,_" she ordered quietly. "If I've read the man right, he'll try to make himself scarce right now. He's under house arrest until I see him in the morning, understand?" Noin nodded and quickly zoomed out of the room.

"As for other matters…Weriden?"

The Messenger nodded deeply to the queen. "Thank you, my Queen. It seems that there is much news from the other countries and from the other magical creatures. The elven emissaries should be arriving within the week, and they apologize heartily for their delay."

"Do we know who the emissaries are?" Asked Noin, taking a seat on the queen's shoulder.

**-No; but they should be people with heads on their shoulders, like all elves,- ** Starlight replied confidently, with a snort.

"Also arriving soon is the emissary from the Eastern Empire, to replace the former Lord Xi."

"Do we know who _that_ is?" asked Isnet.

"A man of royal blood and much learning, so the report went."

Starlight sighed. ** -A**_**ll**_** the reports on the Eastern Empire's emissaries say that.- **

"And the most important bit of news is this: the Celestial Kingdom's leader, King Tyren, has died."

Everyone's eyebrows went up. "That isss a sssad bit of newsss," Eldora replied; "The Celessstial Kingdom's leader was not particularly good, but at leasst he kept the Goblinss and Orcss in check." She ruffled her feathers, sending shards of multicolored light everywhere.

"So who is the leader now?" Asked Elizabeth.

"His son, Treize."

Isnet's face darkened with anger and he rose to his feet. "_What?!_ That arrogant, high-handed, stupid—"

**-Isnet…- ** Starlight interrupted warningly, and Isnet subsided, with a glower on his face.

"However, he has the most right," Pyadyn replied. "His mother died in childbirth; he is old enough to be able to rule on his own, and he _is_ Tyren's son."

"And he doess have verry good orration and leadersship sskills, which are required to be a good rruler," Eldora added.

"But he is ambitious," warned Pyadyn. "Like his grandfather."

"But there is nothing we can do about it; he is the ruler now, and we will have to work with it," Elizabeth sighed. "When did King Tyren die?"

"About three weeks ago; Kalen's journey was an arduous one." Weriden replied darkly.

Starlight's silver eyes darkened in anger. ** -So it was Treize that issued the order to attack Messenger Kalen.- **

"Don't jump to conclusions," Elizabeth warned, standing. "Now that we're all up-to-date, I think all of us should take some time to think about this," she declared. The others nodded, standing up as well. "Goodnight, my lords and ladies." Elizabeth sighed and left the room, the others following after her respectfully.

- - - - -

Heero looked up at the gentle knock on his door. "Enter," he said automatically, reaching for a dagger through force of habit. Messenger Weriden stepped into the room, and he dropped the dagger back on the table. "Oh. It's you."

"What a warm welcome," Weriden said with an arched eyebrow. "Please, don't bother to get up. I'll just help myself." Weriden moved over to the other armchair and sat down heavily; once he had settled himself, Heero stood (Weriden snorted at this, which Heero ignored) and began to make some tea. "Don't bother," Weriden said. "I'll be gone in a minute."

Heero ignored him, continuing to gather up his supplies. "What's wrong?" he asked neutrally.

The other messenger sighed. "Oh, many things, many things…the council meeting just finished." There was a pause, as Heero pulled out some cups; then, "The Celestial Kingdom's changed hands, Heero," he said abruptly. "Tyren's son is leading now. And I think we may be in the setup for another Great War."

"Because the Celestial Kingdom started the last one?" Heero inquired, handing Weriden the tea.

"Not only that; but the Celestial Kingdom holds grudges for a long time."

"Hn." Heero sat down in his chair once more. "But that can't be the only thing that has you worried. _No_ people can be angry for over a hundred years."

"Well, then, think on this. A lot more magical creatures have been streaming over the border between the Celestial Kingdom and us lately, looking for sanctuary, as you well know." He looked at Heero levelly over his teacup.

Heero nodded. "All the Gryphons came over to join our own Dragons, bringing bad tidings; they said there was a sudden buildup of hatred towards them. They thought it best to leave before the hatred turned to violence. The Celestial Dragons said something much the same when they came. There have been rumors that the Orcs and Goblins have been given freer reign, and the Celestial Kingdom has hired the Ssan."

"Things are turning very bad in the Celestial Kingdom." Weriden leaned back in the armchair, staring into the fire meditatively. "So many changes so quickly, and all for the worse."

"So? What are our orders?"

"Nothing, at the moment; just wait, and pray that the Great War doesn't repeat itself." He sighed. "Well, thank you for the tea; I won't take up any more of your time." Weriden stood, and Heero with him. "Have a pleasant night, Heero. Safe travels."

"Safe travels," he echoed, closing the door gently behind Weriden. He turned, and walked back to the fire, lost in his thoughts once more.

* * *

I have to reread my fics more often. Augh! They're SO OOC! -kills things- At least, Heero is. I haven't introduced anyone else yet. Oh, don't worry. They'll show up soon -evil grin-. And not all of them will be in the "traditional" GW representation. You know; Duo's an elf, Hilde's a nymph, and whatnot.

Well, I'm tired, so ja ne!

-Windsong - windsong 137 at gmail dot com

"So we have a slap-aroundy glove face thing." -Helen


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